


Dance with me, Liv

by mellivias



Category: Scandal (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, drunk, drunk mellie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 15:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10389852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellivias/pseuds/mellivias
Summary: Mellie has a little too much hooch, and Liv is the shoulder she cries on.





	

Mellie drunk so much secretly-stashed hooch in her time as first lady, she had put her alcoholic father to shame. She’d consumed so much that there was more alcohol in her own bloodstream than there was in the White House liquor cabinet. But a few weeks into her campaign for president, Mellie had promised herself that she would keeping the drinking to a minimum for a while. Sure, she’d have a glass of wine here and there. With Olivia Pope as her campaign manager, it would be nearly impossible to avoid it altogether. Liv loved her red wine, especially after a long day at the office. But Mellie was going to keep herself mostly sober. She wanted a fresh start. If she was going to run an entire country -- if she was going to be the most powerful woman in the world -- she was going to need to change a few things in her life. There were some things she couldn’t change, like her destructive tendencies and her inherent stubbornness. She got those from her father too. But the drinking was something she could control. 

Unfortunately, the moment she lost the election, all of Mellie’s self-control flew out the window. She downed a bottle of abandoned victory champagne in half an hour, and moved on to the next one. Who would care? She wasn’t going to be president now. Cyrus Beane would be president. That was a tough pill to swallow. 

In the nights following the election, Mellie’s drinking habits escalated. She went from half a jar of hooch in one night to an entire one in an hour. The drinking usually started with one of her and Olivia’s stress-relieving wine nights. Mellie would have a glass or two, but when Olivia left, she’d crack out the good stuff.

One night, after a particularly harrowing day of rushing to pick up all the pieces in the aftermath of the election loss, Mellie let her judgement by the wayside and brought the hooch out before Olivia had even finished her first glass of wine. 

“I think this night calls for something a bit stronger,” Mellie said, taking a long sip and offering the jar to Olivia. 

Olivia declined, seeming content with her glass of red. 

“Suit yourself,” Mellie said, following it with another long sip. 

“Maybe you should slow down, Mellie,” Liv suggested, her words drenched in that signature Olivia Pope patronization. Mellie hated that voice. It made Olivia sound like she thought she knew better than everyone else. Granted, she probably did know better than everyone else. 

“Why? I’m not gonna be president. Who gives a flying fuck what I do?” Mellie said, her Southern drawl creeping its way into her voice. The drunker she got, the more Southern she got. 

“You will be president,” Olivia said plainly. Olivia would go to her grave trying to get Mellie the White House. They both knew that. 

Mellie laughed, a deep, low cackle. Her voice cracked slightly. “Right,” she said. She took another sip, this time a longer one. She let the bitter taste of homemade hooch burn its way down her throat. 

“Don’t give up, Mellie. Don’t do that.” 

“Listen, Olivia,” Mellie said, her words slightly slurred, “I have spent my entire life propping up the men around me. But I don’t have to do that anymore. I didn’t make it to the top. It was all for nothing. So I will be my own woman now. I am Melody Margaret Grant, and I may not be the leader of the free world, but I am the leader of my own damn world.” Mellie paced back and forth in her living room as she spoke. Another swig of hooch. “I do what I want now, Olivia.”

“And what is it that you want?” Liv asked. 

“I wanna dance, baby,” Mellie laughed, an enormous grin on her lips. She was definitely drunk. 

Mellie hit play on her stereo, and the soft sound of the golden oldies station filled the room. An old crooner’s voice spilled through the speakers, and Mellie began to sway to the music. She closed her eyes, trying to block out all of the noise in her brain. 

“Dance with me, Liv,” she purred, putting her hand out for Olivia to grasp. Olivia had so much she wanted to say. She wanted to convince Mellie that her time was not up; that they had so much more to accomplish together. She wanted to tell her to stop being weak; to pull herself together and be the ruthless leader she knew she could be. But Mellie was drunk, and the music sounded sweet, and Liv could feel the wine in her own system too. She stood up and joined Mellie on the makeshift dance floor. 

Mellie laid her hands on Liv’s hips, her touch gentle. The two women moved to the music, moving ever closer to one another. Liv could smell the hooch on Mellie’s breath. 

She touched her forehead to Mellie’s. Their smiles had faded now, as both women let the true reality of everything in their lives seep back into their thoughts. Slowly, a tear made it’s way down Mellie’s cheek. Another one followed it. This time, Olivia caught it with a kiss. This made Mellie cry harder. 

“I wanted it,” Mellie gasped, her shoulders shaking, “So badly.” Mellie’s hands slipped from Liv’s waste now, and she collapsed into a heap on the floor. The music drowned out the sound of her soft sobs. Liv fell into place next to her, pulling Mellie’s head onto her lap and running her fingers through her hair. 

“I know,” Liv said, her voice barely audible. 

The two women stayed strewn on the floor for several minutes. After Mellie’s sobs had quieted, Liv stood up gently. She put her hand in Mellie’s and picked her up from her spot on the carpet. “Let’s get you to bed,” she whispered. 

Liv led Mellie to her bedroom, where Mellie flopped onto the bed in defeat. She moved to Mellie’s drawers, searching for a nightie, as she listened to her friend softly cry into her bedsheets. Liv brought the nightgown to Mellie, and sat her up against the bedrest. Mellie was drunker than Liv had ever seen her, or maybe just more emotional than she’d ever seen her. She took off Mellie’s heels first, setting them gently on the floor beside her bed. Then came her jacket, and next her shirt. Mellie put her head on Liv’s shoulder. 

“I’m drunk,” she murmured into Liv’s neck. 

“I know you are,” Liv laughed. What a sight this was; the first female presidential candidate, sitting shirtless, drunk, cheeks mascara-stained, next to her campaign manager. It was a hauntingly accurate portrait of being a woman in such a bloodthirsty, male-dominated field.

Olivia undid the zipper on Mellie’s skirt and slipped it off gently, leaving Mellie in her bra and underwear. Mellie was drunk, and she would not remember this in the morning. But Liv would remember every moment. She’d remembered how soft Mellie’s skin was, and how her hair smelled. God, her hair smelled amazing. 

“Okay Mellie, arms up,” Liv said gently, bunching up the nightie in her hands. She put it over Mellie’s head, dressing her like a child. This woman could have been president, Liv thought, amused. She corrected herself: this woman still could be president. Mellie may have given up, but Olivia sure hadn’t. 

With Mellie all dressed for bed, Liv pulled back her covers and Mellie burrowed herself into them. Liv tucked her in, thinking about all the times she’d done this for other drunken political figures or politicians’ wives. This time felt different, though. Mellie wasn’t just a job. Liv loved her. She’d never felt this way about anyone before. For some reason, there was no place she’d rather be right now than here with Mellie, even if it meant tucking her into bed, sad and intoxicated.

Liv kissed Mellie’s head softly and turned the lights off in the bedroom. For a moment, she considered crashing on Mellie’s couch, in case she needed to throw up or just wanted some company when she woke up, hungover. But no, that would be taking it too far. Liv needed to go. Like Mellie had told her, she was was her own woman now. 

...

What Liv would never know was that when Mellie woke up that next morning, she wished Olivia had stayed.


End file.
